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About ten minutes into Beyond the Black Rainbow, I had two thoughts go running through my mind:

Jesus Christ, I’m about to have a seizure.

That is the scariest looking wig I’ve seen on a dude in a very long time.

Seriously, though, this one was more than a little messed up. It was long and felt a bit like being stuck in a terapy session where no one wants to really talk, or, worse yet, a holiday dinner where you know no one an time seems to stop moving. Despite all of this, I did manage to take away something in terms of the theme. Writer/director Panos Cosmatos seems to be making a pretty scathing indictment of the spirituality embraced by the New Age crowd, particularly how it leads to destruction and hypocrisy if left unchecked.

About as joyful as the title suggests.

Mixed in amongst the bright color palette of blue, white, orange and red, we get a story centered around the quest for a type of enlightenment. That’s really the purpose of Dr. Mercurio Arboria, who founded the Arboria Institute as a way to help others find happiness, as well as “yourself.” The introduction is performed as an advertisement for the institute, which struck me as a bit of the ol’ “give us your money and we’ll give you a nice cup of Kool Aid” treatment (a certain entertainment-laden cult shall remain nameless). This initial feeling is reinforced later on, when we see Nyle (Michael Rogers) take drugs and ritualistically enter the pool of black liquid. Arboria tells Nyle to “[b]ring home the mother load, Barry.” Ah, Arboria. Using his devoted student for the experiment rather than himself. How selfless, how intrepid. It’s not surprising that this venture is corrupted given the prodding of the student into the black goo. This is self-reservation married perversely with progress: in order to protect oneself from harm, send your disciple in to do the dirty work. If it succeeds, then you have led someone to the right path and can claim glory for leading the lost to his or her salvation; if it fails, someone else takes the consequences while you get to remain on your quest, unscathed. Throw in that Arboria appears to be batshit bonkers, and that’s a pretty harsh statement against your spiritual leaders.

What happens after this point is a kaledoscopic journey for our friend Nyle through a hellish landscape that culminates in madness and murder. We get beautiful purples and blues aplenty (sidenote: Cosmatos has a command of color that he wields with expertise), but Nyle’s skin looks like it’s burning off in large holes as his eye sockets catch fire. This is a really bad trip, and when Nyle emerges, he coughs up the fluid in such a fashion that the stark white background looks like a Rorschach test (itself commentary on Nyle’s mental state). That he saw terrible things seems to reflect upon his broken, imperfect subconscious, and he acts upon those dark impulses when he approaches and kills the cowering Anna. Let’s unpack that one for a moment: a man who lusts after his boss’s wife undergoes an experiment, gets in touch with his darkside to the point where his outside – covered in black, menacing and primal – reflects his internal machinations, and his first impulse is to nuzzle the woman’s neck and tear her throat out. This combines a repressed sexual dark side with a release of the Id. It suggests that we all have this in us; it’s just a psychotropic experience away. Not exactly what Arboria was intending, but again, if you’re going to promise someone the true self, sometimes, you don’t get the sweet side filled with rainbows, innocence and kittens. And yet, Arboria inflicts this same black liquid goo submersion treatment on his infant daughter. He completely glosses over the fact that his wife was murdered by explaining it away as her being “reabsorb[ed] into the cycle of life.” This screams that a parent is willing to subject his child to potential danger and continuing madness in the name of his unproven ideals. That, my friends, is a deep criticism of the passing down of Baby Boomer logic to the next generation: the ideals matter at all costs, eclipsing even the protection of your genetic lineage. Arboria doesn’t care about the yielding of his last experiment, which cost him his wife’s life and the sanity of his assistant. It does not fit the schema of his goals, and therefore, he must continue to try until he finds a way in which enlightenment can be reached. That Arboria does not travel this path himself means that he’s still searching for his formula before he is willing to try it himself, making everyone else – including his child, which instinct tells us you should be willing to defend in order to pass on your genes – expendable. This effectively calls the father a selfish figure with little to no regard for his offspring’s safety. Arboria is not thinking about the welfare of his daughter, who represents the future; he’s thinking about how to best go about a course of action in order to achieve the full benefit for himself. This is the defeat of altruism and progress in the name of spiritual greed.

Tell me what you see on the card.

By some fluke – possibly the fact that she was not old enough to have developed a dark side – Elena (Eva Allen) does indeed survive unscathed, and develops psychic powers that Nyle feels must be controlled. The key element is the notion of control, which Nyle attempts to exert with disastrous results. Control mechanisms throughout this film range from the mild (wigs and contacts) to the extreme (glowing pyramids, Sentionauts, mutants with filed-down teeth). This control either directly applies or implies physical harm to Elena, meaning that his need to control her causes her at least some type of pain. Nyle doesn’t just stop at her: he has to control his own life, from his appearance to his remaining psychic anguish. Nyle finally shakes off the control over his façade when he strips himself of his wig and contacts, exposing the lasting effects of the experimentation to gain enlightenment and psychic abilities. While he is waging his own battle to embrace his true self (note: how depressing is it to realize that the true self is bald, has freaky eyes and crushes skulls like bubble wrap?), Elena makes a bid for freedom by battling air shafts, Sentionauts and a mutant that licks the glass after it tries to eat her – if this is a metaphor for reality and the working world, then I’m going to need a good, stiff drink. Elena, conversely, gets to finally taste the outside once control is removed, appreciating the feel of mud of her feet, the night sky and the visual of a bug on a blade of grass; as an escapee, she gets to experience these things presumably for the first time, and finds an easy rest. Nyle, on the other hand, kills to heshers, particularly after making the assumption that one of them has had sex with Elena. This demonstrates a need to control the sexual activity of the teenage girl. The implications of this are fairly disturbing: in this light, he’s expressing a common form of jealousy concerning a potential partner. Which, yeah… you can’t raise your partner – it doesn’t work that way. I’m all for age differences, but the overtones to this one take it a bit too far into squicky territory. Anywho, Elena does not respond positively to Nyle’s attempts to control her, and instead chooses to leave him rooted to the ground, which ultimately kills him. In his quest to demonstrate psychic powers, he ultimately dies while trying to control the actions of a much-younger female love interest that could, in theory, pass for his daughter. In a sense, her escape from him is very much the teenage rebellion all teenage girls face, minus the whole father-figure-wants-to-fuck-you motif.

This is an extreme to keep her from leaving the house after curfew.

Ultimately, Beyond the Black Rainbow manages to criticize the notions of control while contrasting the hypocrisy of spiritual progress. It takes the good intention of expanding the mind and delves down into darker territory: the quest for control over others. Ideals getting lost in favor of power is not a new theme, but this one really went after it with full force. You may like the movie, or you may not, but you have to admit, this one is highly critical of lost message and overt control.

You can always tell how sick I am based upon if I’m watching Clue. It was always on the television whenever I was home sick as a kid, fating it to become part of my get-well-soon ritual. Right now while I’m writing, I’m mending from bronchitis (thanks a lot, abrupt temperature change and asthma). It’s playing and helping me get better. I have a child-like love and devotion this one. Instead of going in-depth on this one and focusing on subtext, I’m just going to list out reasons why I love this movie. In no particular order, here they are:

How I love thee. Let me count the ways…

Colleen Camp’s costume

Even as a kid, this was one of my favorite parts of the movie. Did not know how to articulate this as a kid, so I kept it to myself and just stared. Now, I kind of laugh at it and go, “Oh, Erin, even back then…” Really, though, that Camp was able to wear this with a straight face (and run in those heels, and manage to not fall out of her dress) is a massive feat. Walking in heels takes practice, man. I can also relate to keeping the gals in check no matter what you wear. For us busty chicks, the struggle is real.

Shameless excuse to use this picture.

It’s partially written and produced by John Landis

Who on Earth would have put John Landis together with a movie based on a board game? It makes perfect sense, if you stop and think about what a smart ass Landis is. This is the same man that directed Animal House, The Kentucky Fried Movie and ¡Three Amigos! He gets billed as a master of horror – which he does extremely well, don’t get me wrong – but at his core, he has a wicked and raunchy sense of humor. It shows here, in everything from the innuendos to the costumes to the dialogue. Landis has a smutty, off-kilter sense of humor that just appeals. Some people just get you.

The power of semantics and dim light bulbs

One of my favorite exchanges:

Wadsworth: It’s like the Mounties. We always get our man.
Mr. Green: Mrs. Peacock was a MAN?!

Things are taken far too literally in this film by characters that could stand to have less alcohol and more brain cells. I love how literal the characters are. There are so many stupid interactions and one-liners, including, but not limited to:

“Why would he want to kill you in public?” “I think she meant he threatened, in public, to kill her.” * eye roll *

“It’s a matter of life after death. Now that he’s dead, I have a life.”

I love that Professor Plum can’t manage to successfully hit on anyone. His main target not only shoots him down, she has to torpedo his advances and watch them burn. From an ass grab gone wrong to a hand on the knee, he does not get the hint, and she continues to shoot him down with sass and a firm sense that it’s never going to happen. The older I get, the more I appreciate this.

The physical comedy

I love physical comedy in all forms. Maybe I’m a really large child, but watching someone take a fall is so funny. Aside from that, though, this one managed to take the joke beyond the easy falls. The slurping of the soup. The thumping sound made when the cook’s body drops. Wadsworth shouting and getting hit with the candlestick. My personal favorite is the gong. This joke lasts all of 15 seconds, but I cackle every time I see it. I am that klutzy; I would totally send a glass of champagne sailing when startled. It’s funny because it’s me.

The way it all gels together

After watching this one multiple times, the murders all make sense, regardless of which ending is selected. Now is it completely perfect? Nope. But it’s close, and that’s good enough for me. High five.

The explanation sequence

Fast talking. Varying facial expressions. Wadsworth’s run. For god’s sake, WADSWORTH’S RUN! I cannot put into words how much glee I feel at watching Tim Curry do that strange little run around the house. Pepper that run with mocking the other characters, and it’s magic. Come on, he gets to slap around Mrs. Peacock. The man is my hero.

The house

The set is awesome. I would kill for a pool table like that. And a library like that. And a ballroom. Now I want to go check out real estate….

1+2+2+1, not 1+1+2+1

This may be obvious, but I will still list it because it’s funny as hell. It stays.

The singing telegram

Remember how I said “in no particular order” earlier? Yeah, I take that back. The best goes last. I love and adore the singing telegram girl’s murder. Come on, it’s a chance to watch one of The Go-Gos get shot (just kidding – people, please don’t kill Jane Wiedlin). It takes less than 30 seconds of screen time before she is shot, and yet this is the one that I will rewind over and over and over again. It will instantly lift my mood. In fact, that might have to be a tone for incoming text messages, now that I think about it.

So much joy in such a short amount of time.

Is it childish that I have a movie I watch every time I get sick? Most likely. But it’s my ritual, and I’m willing to bet I’m not alone. Some people have pillows, hot baths or chicken soup; perhaps they have all three together. I have my couch and Clue. Clue will forever be one of the things that makes me feel better.

Come join us one week from today (9/26/15) at 5PM EDT as we live tweet the director’s cut of Iron Sky! We’re doing this one a little early so that some of our foreign friends can join us at a reasonable hour (sorry, Australia, we’re going to miss the boat on that one).

I’ll be getting loaded on alcohol and cheesecake while watching a film I’ve never seen before, so there’s always a possibility that someone will get an “I love you, man” and/or I’ll lose my mind-to-mouth filter with the one-two punch of alcohol and sugar. Most likely both. You’ve been warned, and there are people actively encouraging this (apparently, I’m pretty fun and very honest). I will have some friends joining me, so I’ll make sure to credit their comments as I did last time.

Look for @bsdriverreview on Twitter, as well as #IronSky. Hope to see you there.

This one’s fitting because I’m the sole living creature that happens to be awake late in my home at night while typing this. Some medication-induced insomnia is making sure that, while tired, I don’t sleep. A short film about a man surviving the apocalypse seems appropriate for this occasion. Check out Brock Torunski’s Alone:

Aside from the basic issues I had with it – seriously, how is this guy still getting cell reception years after everyone is dead? – I think that from a thematic standpoint, it hit some solid points with how we approach solitude. When we want to get away from everyone, we go for the long walks (or the jogs if you’re health-conscious); we let the phone go to voice mail; we just want to stare out over a bridge. We just want that space to breathe, to not be at work, to have some time for us. However, once you have it against your will, the feeling is less liberation and more crushing sorrow. You don’t know what to do with yourself. As someone who lives with joint custody (and a damn liberal agreement at that), I can tell you right now that being alone and having complete quiet, while incredible for about a half a day in the early stages, can make you feel lost and sad on a level you didn’t realize existed. (Sidenote: for anyone that feels that it’s acceptable to voice envy or condescension to a parent that splits custody… don’t. It’s a painful experience I wouldn’t wish on anyone, so please, don’t even think of trying to cheer someone up with all the cool stuff they get to do. It’s hurtful and it doesn’t help.) I don’t think this sense is tackled enough because no one wants to admit it’s there.

On a lighter note, I liked that the survivor wasn’t the typical survivor: it was a kid with a business degree, which, if you look at zombie and apocalypse fare, is typically the first person to die. This typically signifies that the middle class office jockey can’t hack it; I liked that flip. I also liked that in the end, a light went on in the dark. Some may think it’s cheesy. I thought it was nice that while we got acknowledgment that someone else was still kicking without having to see some gorgeous woman come running out into the streets to see the last man alive.

I saw a trailer for Patch Town and was intrigued. It looked like a strange take on Cabbage Patch Kids, a staple of my childhood. Backstory: I had a boy Cabbage Patch doll, which was strange for a little girl in the 1980s. It was a boy/girl twin set (two sides to every Schwartz); my sister got the girl, I got the boy, and I adored him. In the name of my beloved Lyle, I knew that I had to watch it, if only because Rob Ramsay’s hair (and yes, that’s his real hair) reminded me so much of my doll. I will warn you that this one is weird. If you’re looking for something out-there this weekend, here are five reasons to make Patch Town your date.

So strange. So very strange.

#1 – It’s a very dark take on Cabbage Patch kids

It’s not just the origins of the dolls. It’s a look into the business of selling toys, from ingredients (organic!) to profit margins to activists. That it gets plunked into a type of Stalinist regime with black-clad secret police adds a whole dimension of what-the-fuck to it that boggles the mind.

#2 – You’ll recognize the cast

If you’ve watched anything from Canada, you’ll most likely recognize some of the actors. Zoie Palmer (Lost Girl). Julian Richings (The Red Violin, Orphan Black). And one of my favorites – Scott Thompson! I still see Queen Elizabeth when I look at that man. The moments of recognition add to the experience.

It’s Lauren from Lost Girl!

#3 – Sibling rivalry gets the honest treatment

There’s a cold, hard truth out there that some parents don’t want to face: not all kids want siblings. You may want another child, but your kid might not share those feelings, and may never fully warm to the idea. For some, the more is not merrier. That’s one of those darker family dynamics that isn’t talked about. This one faces it head on, and does so with honesty.

#4 – The strangest fucking musical you’ve seen in a while

I’m not a musical person. I don’t like the random song-and-dance numbers. If you ever want to torture me, make me watch Grease! It takes something special to make me like a film with song and dance numbers. And I’ll be honest here: the singing in this film was not my cup of tea (you know that scene in Monty Python and the Holy Grail where the king tells his son not to sing? That’s me every time I’m subjected to a musical, mentally bellowing, “And NO singing!”). But like a good trainwreck, I couldn’t stop watching. If you like musicals, you very well may like this.

#5 – Adoption and abandonment issues

At its core, this one asks some tough questions about adoption and parental abandonment. The search for one’s mother, the pain at being abandoned, the desire for a family – this one takes a long look at some pieces of family dynamics that many proponents of adoption don’t want to face. It recognizes that adoption is not always the easy solution that most people want to believe it to be; it’s not cut-and-dry, and there are sometimes painful internal issues that everyone in the process faces long after the paperwork has been signed. Add to that the nice message about belonging and making your own family, and it leaves a good impression. I applaud its honesty.

The cast really adds a lot to the themes too.

This one’s a streamer from Netflix and Hulu Plus if you’re interested. I will repeat, it’s an odd one, but you may find it entertaining.

I had been putting off watching 2010’s Let Me In. I loved 2008’s Let the Right One In from Sweden, as well as the 2004 novel by John Ajvide Lindqvist. I also have this thing about remaking perfectly good foreign films so that English-speaking audiences can watch them: if something is incredible, it’s incredible and deserves to be seen, so stop complaining and read the subtitles. There are many instances of a failure in the translation of native language to English: the English version often lacks something special and becomes the far inferior version. Let Me In, though, didn’t have this issue. I have to admit that I was pleasantly surprised. This is no easy feat, and I wondered where this one managed to soar where others fell flat. Where I think this lies is the approach writer/director Matt Reeves took: a focus on the characters and linking of the actions to their relationships rather than either a shot-for-shot remake or no-holds-barred gore-fest.

I didn’t want to like you, but dammit, I do.

This film adequately explores the very real horror of bullying by expanding and intensifying the treatment of Owen (Kodi Smit-McPhee) at the hands of ringleader Kenny (Dylan Minnette). While the 2008 Swedish film tackled this one, the 2010 version undertook a more brutal approach to the same subject matter. We got to witness increased isolation at school in Owen’s behalf: spitballs, sitting out at gym during swimming, the smiles he exhibits when Kenny gets in trouble for trying to pull down a girl’s bathing suit. This may sound weird, but as someone who grew up in the 1980s with kids that got wedgies, I can tell you that I was happy that Reeves added how physically painful the experience can be, as well as inclusion of the fact that Owen wet himself during the incident. For those of you that haven’t read the book, I’ll spoil something small: the character Oskar has a bladder control issue that is linked directly to his bullying; that Reeves included it made me like the film a bit more because he clearly read the source material.L Likewise, Reeves added a dimension to Kenny that was well-thought out and in complete alignment with the pathology of a bully. At a few different points, Kenny attempts annoying behavior that borders on escalating harassment of girls, most notably in the pool and in the classroom. He’s seen on at least two separate occasions physically interacting with girls in an attempt to either touch them or initiate a lower level of sexual contact: breast exposure and the playing with hair. These are troubling behaviors for someone with a proclivity for making life a living hell for his classmate. Considering that Kenny also refers to Owen as “her” and “she,” then uses the power dynamic to coerce Owen into silence regarding injuries, it’s very clear that Kenny has gender-based domination issues. Throw in that Kenny himself is called a “little girl” by his older brother, and it’s a depth that we don’t normally get with our big bad wolves. The feat that Reeves accomplishes with this: we very much dislike Kenny, but we understand why he behaves this way. Making someone unsympathetic when there’s wiggle room for sympathy can be an art form.

On the other side of the power scale, we get Abby (Chloe Grace Moretz) and Thomas (Richard Jenkins), whose relationship has hit a rough patch. Abby seems detached upon moving into the building, and her annoyance at Thomas failing to procure blood is far more intense. Better yet, it’s two-sided, which makes it more of a dialogue as opposed to a diatribe. Abby speaks in her vampiric voice to Thomas in this instance, and allows Thomas to voice his defense: he’s getting sloppy, maybe he’s just tired, maybe he’s too old for this and is letting her down. During this explanation, the expression Jenkins wears is that of a man that is truly tired: he looks unhappy, he looks like he’s failed someone he loves, he looks sad. We get to further see the deterioration of their relationship with increased fighting and Abby’s pulling away, especially when she sees him in his room and tells him, “I have to get in there. Move. Move.” However, they do try to patch things up as most close relationships would, and we get those non-verbals, most notably when Abby strokes Thomas’s cheek before he goes out for the last time to get her food. By the time that Thomas offers her his neck at the hospital, we see that he is devoted, and that Abby, in return, cares for him as well. For me, this deepened the relationship and provided greater motivation not by being far-fetched as some other films would go (*coughcoughBlackChristmasremakecoughcough*). The performances of Moretz and Jenkins – both excellent on their own – worked to have me believe that there was history there. It worked well.

This was a touching departure from the source material.

The last one I’m going to address here is the relationship between Owen and his parents. This one was a gamble, and I think it paid off. Owen’s parents are divorcing, and we see the pain involved in this split with an honesty that takes into account the silent suffering of the impacted child. Owen’s mother is not attentive, and cries to herself on the couch when she thinks her son isn’t looking. Her face is blurry and not directly filmed, and Owen’s nameless dad gets a similar treatment: we only ever hear his voice. We hear his parents fight with each other, and are thus placed in Owen’s isolated perspective. We also see and hear them dismiss their child’s suffering: Owen’s mother does not recognize that something is going on at school with her ever-the-more-silent child (particularly with the shoddy cheek-injury story), and his father sums up his son’s desperate question of the existence of evil as his mother’s “religious crap.” This child does not have a solid adult in which to confide, which makes him more receptive to the friendship he shares with Abby. The depression felt in this environment is reflected in the lighting choices: it’s dark and gray, with a sickly yellow/orange tinge in his bedroom and the outside world. This is a sick environment, and the setting demonstrates the decay of the family beautifully.

I can only hope that my divorce didn’t do this to my kids.

While this one didn’t go for all of the high points of the book – really, both the 2008 and 2010 versions could have delved deeper into the history of the character Eli – it managed to work because it brought it back to the characters. It didn’t have to rely on gore, though we did get some at certain points. It worked with atmosphere, lighting and old-fashioned story telling to present a fresh take on the sourcem material. Much like a book, we got to see these characters as people, and we cared when they were angry, abused and scared. We followed them because we wanted to. This one made me feel both scared for Owen and sympathetic toward Abby and Thomas. Really, if you can make me feel something akin to what I felt, you’ve done your job. This one goes down as one of the few English-language remakes I enjoyed. Nice job, Mr. Reeves.

This past weekend, I couldn’t decide if I was in the mood for something scary or something funny. I was browsing on Netflix and found 1987’s The Monster Squad. Quick backstory: the first time I saw this was in early 1988 on HBO, and the first five minutes scared 7-year-old me (I’ve officially dated myself) in part because I had just discovered Bram Stoker’s Dracula on the sly and had been keeping myself up at night with that one (for the record, I was fine once I got over that five-minute hump, and the exposure to harder horror began shortly thereafter). This one has some memories for me, so I threw it on. Aside from the offensive 1980s tropes (really, why do we need to rip on the heavier kid?), I found myself snapping to attention at the notion of virginity. Particularly female virginity and sexual blackmail. I couldn’t tell what pissed me off more: the fact that female virginity was the only virginity for the job, or that a teenage girl was blackmailed into a performance before being asked to prove sexual “purity.”

Behind that light-hearted 80s comedy facade…

Let’s start with some semantics. At no point in any of the rituals (or discussions of the rituals) is the need for a female virgin specified – it is only stated that a virgin must read the passage in German in order to open the portal to limbo. Now, let’s be perfectly frank: finding a virginal, geeky teenager is not problematic, regardless of gender. I’d be willing to wager that a group of junior high students obsessed with monsters would fall firmly into this category (we smell our own). However, the first jump is to find a girl. Call this a staple of the horror genre if you will, but in watching this as an adult, I was horrified that no one thought to look to one of the boys to fulfill the requirement on a technicality. This works to subtly place the burden of salvation onto the pure, chaste female – boys, after all, are expected to sow their wild oats while a girl is socially viewed as tainted goods if she loses her virginity before an “acceptable” time (i.e., marriage). Even worse? This is supposed to be a point of comic relief in the film. How funny that these fellas must have awkward conversations when one of them could have said, “Hey, I’ve never had sex before. Maybe I can save the world.” While not explicitly stated, this works to reinforce social precept. That’s disturbing because it sends the message that, as late as 1987, our young women were still held to the notion that they had to retain virginal status in order to be of value. It all boils down to being either a virgin, a mother or a whore; in this case, the stoic virgin is needed to save the world. Female sexual activity has the power to doom the world to darkness.

Even more disturbing is the treatment of Patrick’s sister (Lisa Fuller), who is basically blackmailed into aiding the group via a method that bears a striking resemblance to revenge porn. I’ll be referring to her as PS for the rest of this post, as you may not realize that the writers didn’t bother to give her a name. She is simply the sister of one of our male leads, which reduces her to male ownership. PS is brought to the clubhouse and asked, rather crudely, if she’s a virgin. When PS tells the boys, “You guys are sick,” Rudy (Ryan Lambert) reveals that he has a nude picture of her and threatens to post it in public to get her to help. Stop and think about that for a moment: two teenage boys lure you up to a secluded area, ask you about your sexual history, then threaten to reveal a nude photograph – taken without your consent – for everyone to see if you don’t agree to their demands. PS hadn’t realized that the boys have been spying on her while she’s changing; while her blinds may have been open, the photography was a clear violation of her privacy. That Patrick passively allowed the boys to ogle his sister is a bit disturbing because it makes her an object of gratification. At this point, though, she goes along with it. We don’t get to see any further conversation or reaction, and in the next scene, she’s getting ready to help with the ritual. These boys have effectively blackmailed her into doing their bidding by threatening to show her naked body in pubic against her will. This is blackmail of an odious kind, and it’s wrong.

I’m pissed for you, sister.

The real fun in terms of the treatment of females happens during the big showdown of good-versus-evil. When PS reads the passage and the ritual fails, she’s questioned about her virginity and replies no, though this is surprisingly non-verbal. PS communicates with a headshake, as though speaking the truth is not only difficult, but somehow shameful. What’s her younger brother’s reaction? “What do you mean no?!” PS responds, “Well, Steve, but he doesn’t count.” This is met with anger by her brother, but really, do you blame her for lying? This girl had to say anything to avoid the sticky situation of forced public nudity. She was shamed into lying, and it cost the group valuable time. When the gears switch to using Phoebe for the ritual (again, there we are with the virginal female as opposed to any ol’ virgin we had in the house), we find that she is directly threatened bodily and verbally. In a chilling piece of dialogue, Dracula lifts the child by the chin and barks, “Give me the amulet you bitch!” Because that’s the quickest way to take the wind out of a girl’s sails: refer to her as a bitch in order to reduce her worth. And who should come to Phoebe’s rescue? Frankenstein’s Creature, who resolves the issue with brute force. Demonstrating, once again, that a big, strong man is needed in order to solve the problems of the small, helpless girl.

Yeah, no. No, no, no. No.

I have to admit that this one left me upset in part because it’s billed as a type of horror-comedy that can be appreciated by pre-teens. What does this teach them? Might makes right. Females need males to protect them. Keep your virginity, girls, in order to save the world. And above all else, go along with whatever plan is out there to keep yourself from getting exposed against your will.

Ever take a long road trip and start to get a little, how shall we say, wacky? That’s par for the course with me in the car (I’ve been told between the bags of Twizzlers and the alphabet version of the picnic game, I’m a lot of fun). There is, however, a downside to a long trip: the exhaustion and need for company, especially if you’re going solo. Still Life, a 2006 offering from Jon Knautz, gives us exactly what could go wrong if you’re stuck in a car by yourself. Check it out for yourself:

This one was surreal in a good way. I liked the angle of using mannequins as spectators – that one sums up how many individuals would rather stand around and stare rather than engage in an active life. Worse yet, this manages to say something about the level of involvement most people have with dangerous conflict: many would freeze as opposed to help. Points for that commentary, and really, I dare you to take a look at how you’d behave in a similar situation. I also dug the use of light percussion as music; it was minimal, but added a lot in terms of mood. The ending fell right in line with where I thought it was headed, but again, the execution made the difference. As soon as our nameless protagonist (or is it antagonist at this point?) grabbed the bat, I knew where it was going, though I’m really thankful that I didn’t have to see a bashed-in baby. Where this really worked, though, is Knautz’s direction: it felt like I was coming out of a haze, which fit with the pill-popping at the beginning of the film. There was clear tone there, and it felt wobbly and disoriented in a good way. It worked to enhance, not detract.

Jemaine Clement is hit or miss with me. I loved him in Gentlemen Broncos; Flight of the Conchords, not so much. Yeah, I said it – for someone who has heard Conchords referred to as, “Yeah, it’s like coffee. It’s an acquired taste”… well, let’s just say I’m not a coffee drinker. However, I digress. I had a chance to watch his vehicle What We Do In the Shadows, which chronicles the undead lives of a group of vampires living in modern-day New Zealand. Reality-style films are a gamble, but this one is, well, funny as shit. Available on Amazon, iTunes and Vudu, here are five reasons to sit down and devote 90 minutes to this one.

So difficult to pick a favorite.

#1 – The How-We-Met Stories

There’s something magical about learning how two people met. Doesn’t matter to me if it’s a a pair of lovebirds or two friends that have a kick ass friendship. Stories are fascinating to me, and I love hearing them. Hearing a how-we-met story in context of becoming undead adds a dimension to this experience that’s equal parts funny and sentimental.

#2 – The realities of daily life

Chores suck. In a perfect world, no one would have to wash dishes or vacuum. Alas, life must go on, and for those of us that don’t like living in an oversized petri dish, we clean. The vampires fall into this bucket as well. Watching someone use supernatural powers for chores, or fight over who hasn’t done the dishes for five years, puts a new spin on a very real fight that many people endure. Whether it’s your spouse or your roommate, you’ll appreciate this one.

#3 – The visual gags

Hissing, floating, silver allergies, lack of a reflection – all aspects of the traditional undead. Those tropes are used as visual gags, often in context of trying to fit into the modern world or coping with daily life. It could have gone cheesy and terrible fast. Luckily, it doesn’t.

I’ve been asked if this is how I play pool.

#4 – Commentary on relationships

There’s a bad breakup in this one. There’s also a marriage with shifting power dynamics, and a semi-tragic love story that results in the painful decision to let a loved one go whilst still holding a candle. It manages to be both funny and poignant at the right times. I was moved, and anyone that has had to make similar decisions will recognize this. That’s difficult to accomplish, let alone in a snarky comedy. Bravo to Clement and co-writer/-director/-star Taika Waititi.

#5 – Did I mention it’s funny?

By funny, I mean very funny. I guffawed at several points. I love many different types of humor: slapstick, visual gags, puns, deadpan line delivery. This one has it all. I think you’ll like it as much as I did.

You know how there’s always one friend that’s complaining that the characters in a horror movie don’t have any common sense? Yeah, that’s me, backseat driving a horror film. When Wyrmwood began, I was wondering how long it would be before I had to start complaining and telling the characters how to survive a zombie outbreak. Thing is, our two leads in Wyrmwood don’t need this explanation from me. In a refreshing change of pace, brother/sister team Brooke (Bianca Bradey) and Barry (Jay Gallagher) manage to survive the outbreak by using the one-two punch of fast mental and physical reaction, proving that both facets of strength are necessary for survival.

Did not think I was going to like this one as much as I did.

Our first indicator that these two are going to be alright occurs during Brooke’s experience in the initial outbreak. From the moment that Brooke realizes that something is wrong with the model she’s photographing, she moves quickly to get herself out of the situation. A display of cat-like reflexes sees her scaling the rafters of the small shed in which she’s working, removing her from harm’s way while the assistant – who just stood there – is attacked, killed and transformed. She then kills the assistant and uses a hook to subdue the model. That she thought to do this and moved so quickly was impressive. What’s her next instinct? She tries to escape, and, upon seeing more zombies outdoors, she finds it to be safer to stay put. This was a nice change from the regular fare, because she realized that she was not equipped to do battle just yet – her cool, level head allowed her to stay alive because the thought balanced out the action. Instead of becoming a one-woman army with a toothpick, Brooke settles for calling her brother to warn him of the imminent danger. This action manages to balance out the perception of the tough female lead with the very real, very caring actions of a concerned sister. That she is not the main love interest was interesting, and lent the character a depth that we don’t normally get in this type of fare: a woman that is smart, strong and caring.

This thoughtful call winds up giving Barry just enough information to survive his initial attack. Despite the low, leisurely pace of his family life up until that point, the phone call puts him on edge so that he’s ready to spring into action when his daughter informs him of the intruder in the kitchen. There’s a world of difference in the reactions of Barry and his wife in the kitchen that demonstrate who is the better one to have around in a zombie outbreak: while he’s busy fighting, he has to direct his wife to attempt to subdue the attacker. Barry’s wife is clearly the weak point: she stops fighting and backs up against the stove while her husband is still struggling with the attacking zombie. She actively gives up to the point that her husband’s life is in jeopardy. When Barry does manage to kill it, he follows Brooke’s lead and utilizes his quick thinking skills by preparing himself with a tool belt and ordering his wife and daughter to put on gas masks, then moves quickly to their car. It’s this action that saves them from the horde outside their house. Once again, the combination of fast thinking and strength winds up saving lives.

This group was great.

As the film progresses, the physical speed of both characters is far outpaced by their quick mental jumps. While he is still fast in his physical reactions, Barry deduces that zombie breath can function as a type of power source, and comes to the realization that this is why the zombies move faster at night. This not only moves the plot along, but saves the lives of the small band of male survivors. Brooke, for her part, can not move during her captivity, and has to rely on her thinking skills in order to survive. Her realization of the telepathic zombie bond is used to fuel an escape strategy that employs both the use of her new mental ability as well as her quick physical response. What I found the most interesting is the Brooke did not have to use sex once to save herself. There was no pleading, no flashing of breasts, no seductions – just good, old-fashioned deduction and strategy.

It’s worth noting that the Doctor (Berryn Schwerdt) serves as a contrast to these two characters in terms of his speed. The Doctor’s movements, particularly when dancing, are slow and theatrical. He’s deliberate in his movements as a way to strike fear into Brooke, and the hesitations in his torture of physical subjects mark him as a sadist that wants to build as much terror as he can. He’s also a bit slow on the uptake – he’s studying and experimenting on the zombies and captive humans, but does not really appear to glean much knowledge from these experiments. It’s as though his slow pace has impacted his ability to obtain and synthesize meaning from his work. His pace is still slow during Brooke’s escape mission, during which his fingers are bitten off and he hesitates when amputating his hand. Ultimately, it’s the Doctor that perishes, while Brooke – fast-thinking and quick-moving – is rewarded with survival and escape.

This image just appeals to me.

Wyrmwood manages to combine the two halves of the survival pie in order to demonstrate that the speed of both the body and the mind are necessary to surviving an attack on your life. We see characters that are not only physically fast, but also manage to retain their wits in order to find a solution. I couldn’t criticize that; it was nice to see. Here’s hoping that this realization gives us more films where we get to see characters think their way out of a bad situation before they start in with the shovel and the shotgun.